Take Two
by AtticFan
Summary: Hermione has finished training. She needs a place to stay and a second chance from two of her oldest friends. Will she be able to regain what she thought she'd lost? Sequel to Time Twich, AU like crazy, hope you love it. {Indefinite hiatus}
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. At all. _

**.**

**Prologue:**

Hmm.

Hermione ran a finger along the wood of the bookcase.

Dusting. It would mean a lot of dusting.

She walked from her favorite room and to another. She scraped her nails along a roll-top desk, relishing the staccato as they clicked over the ridged surface. As she walked over the rarely tread upon carpet little clouds came up around her.

First- she poked the curtains, wary of any creepies that may be lurking. Satisfied that they weren't about, she opened the heavy drapes. She didn't bother trying to open the window, there was no way that was going to happen. At least, not yet. Instead she just admired the view of the tiny London park across the street.

It occurred to her that she could walk across this window, or any other in the house, naked with the curtains thrown wide and no one would know or care. The idea had merit.

She had been walking through the house for nearly an hour, surveying the damage.

The stairs creaked.

There were eerie fixtures throughout the house.

Absolutely everything was covered in dust. Even the floors of some showers.

The library was vast.

She'd get her own room, probably her own _floor_, not that she'd ever ask for it.

It'd mean an end to apartment hunting.

She wouldn't have to worry about dying and not being discovered for days until the neighbors complained about the smell.

Plus, she'd love the company.

"Okay." She said, turning away from the window and towards her two friends, who'd been silently shadowing her during her inspection, and grinned. "I'm in."


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does._

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Men.

A cliché, she knew, but in this case the sentiment was valid.

With a particularly grubby and unattractive handkerchief over her voluminous hair, Hermione stood victorious over the battleground. There were some casualties, most notably Hermione's jeans that were now covered in magical bleach speckles, but they couldn't put a damper on her sense of a job well done. It had taken hardly any time at all. Well, two weeks. Not the speediest cleanup in the history of the world- but the building was practically condemned and she was only one person.

But more importantly, this room was hers: the ceiling, the floor, and everything in between- Sirius had insisted. When he had first pitched the idea of her moving in, Hermione had been reluctant. But the facts were these: She had gone straight from the dorms of Hogwarts to the dorms of The Ministry's Magical Specialty School. Once finished there, she'd had every intention of moving in with Ron and Harry. She would have gone on to do so, if on the night of her graduation (the night she was no longer 'Hermione Granger', but 'Hermione Granger, Potions and Transfiguration Apprentice') Ron hadn't asked his girlfriend Susan to move in with him, the git.

Oh, she was happy for him and everything, but she took it as his fault that she'd been squatting at her parents' for the past six months. What twenty year old witch still lived with her parents? She and Harry briefly considered moving in together without Ron, but Mrs. Weasley had told them in no uncertain terms that if they were to live together a ring had to be involved. Seeing as that would put a strain on her then-relationship with Oliver, they went to their respective hide-outs. Hermione to her old room at her parents' place, and Harry took up the top bedroom at the burrow.

It was more than obvious that Harry had gotten the sweeter deal. Every morning he was greeted by a practically gourmet breakfast and fresh laundry. Mrs. Weasley doted on him in such a way that Hermione frequently considered polyjuice-ing Harry and switching places. As an unexpected bonus, the reporters that had been hounding Harry about his defeat of Lord Voldemort had become so terrified of Mrs. Weasley and her frying pan that they'd all but given up on getting an interview.

Harry's Eden only put into stark contrast Hermione's situation. Oh, she loved her parents, through and through, but it had been years since she'd lived with them full-time. Not only did they have a certain twitchiness about magic since she'd obliviated them before 7th year, but they insisted on treating her as if she was eleven years old again. She didn't have a problem with helping out around the house, but when her parents assigned her chores to be completed for an allowance of ten quid a week, Hermione had very nearly laughed out loud. She had eventually adjusted to her twin bed and the baby blue décor of her childhood room. She had gotten used to her parents trying to keep tabs on her whereabouts, and refraining from conspicuous magic in their presence- hard as it was.

Sure, she'd avidly checked the papers every morning for a London area apartment she could afford on basically no money (without letting her parents know). Sure, she was sick of telling her parents that she was 'sleeping over with Ginny' whenever she went out on a date with expectations. Sure, she wanted to be able to walk out the door without answering any questions. And yes, there were some days where she'd give anything to be able to go over the the liquor cabinet and have a drink after being bent over a cauldron for the afternoon- but couldn't because her father didn't approve of her, or any proper young lady, drinking alcohol. But she would take all that over being homeless.

It was only after yet another evening she spent at Grimmauld Place bemoaning her sad and sorry state of being that Sirius had told her that she had a room at his place whenever she wanted it. He had said it so casually, as if it were a given- totally obvious, but it had never occurred to Hermione to ask for his hospitality. She had taken to going to Grimmauld Place every day after work to restore the energy required to go home, but living there would be a whole other story.

Since Kreacher had died last year, Grimmauld place had fallen into a semi-inhabitable state. She couldn't understand why Sirius hadn't bothered to renovate, clean, or make any real efforts to dispel the gloomy atmosphere of the place. The kitchen, which was used every day, was probably the only room in the house that was immune to the grime. It wasn't exactly well equipped, but at least it wasn't squalid.

And so, after much deliberation, Hermione's desperation for independence won out and she moved into Grimmauld; with a few conditions. She was to have her own room, and decorate it as she pleased. This, Sirius had provided- a third floor bedroom with a view of the street below. Second, she wasn't to be taken care of. Not that she expected Sirius to pry, but she'd had quite enough nannying at her parents' house and would be damned if she moved from underneath her parents' feet to under Sirius'. He had laughed, but accepted that as well. Finally, she insisted she was allowed to pay rent. This, Sirius had none of. He argued that he wasn't paying for the house, so why should anyone else? After a series of negotiations that got heated enough that Remus played referee to more than one shouting match, they agreed that Hermione would pay for her room and board by making the house less, well, horrifying. She almost didn't get the deal, but Sirius finally allowed her this manner of payment when she threatened not to move in at all.

And so, Hermione observed the first reflections of her handiwork: her bedroom.

She had had her pick of any room in the house, save two, and had chosen a guest room on the third floor. It was one of the worst rooms in the house and a good place to start. Before she'd gotten her hands on it, it had been moldy, dirty, and filled with half-rotten furniture so that there was hardly space to walk. Breathing and moving had been major issues for the first three days. She'd been able to salvage the ornately carved bed frame, but the mattress, the carpet, the curtains, and nearly everything else, had to go. Instead of using the money she'd been saving for rent, she bought a new mattress set, a cozy old-fashioned armchair, paint, and all the other things required to make her new room a home. The result was a room that was cozy, friendly, and traditional- just like Hermione.

Hermione checked her watch and realized with a groan that it was nine o' clock. She wanted nothing more than to collapse onto her welcoming bed and not move for a few hours, but the fact that she was now dirty, sweaty, and generally gross from hours of finishing off the room and unpacking stopped her. Instead, she grabbed her largest bath towel, her bag of shower supplies, and headed to the bathroom.

While she'd been renovating the guest room, Hermione had realized that the third floor bathroom must've passed for opulent in it's glory days. However, when she'd discovered it, it was dusty, stained, and looked as if it had lain unused for quite some time. It hadn't taken more than a day's work to make the room hygienic and serviceable. The only flaw was that the room was somewhat terrifying. The black-tile décor and snake fixtures were one thing, but the fact that the shower came out of the mouth of a screaming silver -human- head was a bit too far past disturbing for Hermione's preference.

After about twenty minutes of avoiding looking at the empty eye sockets of the shower head, Hermione got out, wrapped herself up thoroughly, put on a pair of slippers, and sneaked back to her room. It was a relief to be back in her comparatively beautiful haven once more and she quickly dressed in the t-shirt she planned on sleeping in and some jeans. Once she was done, she didn't really know what to do.

She stood awkwardly in the middle of her bedroom, unsure if she should go out into the main house or not. It wasn't as if this was her first night at Grimmauld Place. Not if you counted when she'd stayed there for summer and Christmas breaks at Hogwarts. But it was the first as an official resident of the property.

Finally, she collapsed onto her bed. She wasn't ready for sleep, but what else was there to do? She hadn't stepped out of the room all day, except to take her shower. Looking up at the ceiling and it's interesting hatch mark design, she slipped into a half-hypnotized state of exhaustion. There came a gentle rap on the door that she recognized.

"Come in." She called at a slightly-louder-than-conversational voice. The door obligingly opened to reveal her visitor and roommate.

"God Hermione, it looks fantastic." He said from the doorway.

"Thank you, Remus." Hermione was more than a little smug at his jealous expression. She wondered why he was hovering at the threshold, and lifted herself up on her elbows to observe him.

True, he had the hair of a forty-something, with a couple large streaks of silver amongst the sandy blonde and light brown. It always looked a little over-long, like he was past due for a haircut. Not the disaster area that Harry chronically wore, but it could hold it's own against most other people's bad hair days. His face reflected his late thirties with a few crinkling lines around his eyes when he smiled, but other than that, he looked every bit the teenage boy she'd once known. He was still tall, spry, and scarred.

He had his feet firmly planted on the hallway runner, making Hermione feel as though she should get up as well- so she did. She would've been content to watch him study her work, but Remus, noticing her movement, topped his visual absorption of her room and turned to her with a small smile.

"Sirius is making dinner." He informed her, and didn't miss that her eyes glanced to the clock. "Yeah, we heard the shower and he realized you haven't eaten today. He and I keep odd hours, so a ten o' clock meal isn't that unusual for us. Do you, er, would you like to join us?"

Hermione saw him shifting his feet uncomfortably, and it occurred to her that this was the first time either of them had lived with a girl, just as it was the first time she'd lived alone with men. It made sense, Remus being a commitment-phobe due to his condition, and Sirius simply hadn't had the opportunity to have roommates after Hogwarts. These thoughts brought comfort to her busy mind and made her less worried about the etiquette of living with someone, or two someones as the case may be, as they didn't know all the ins and outs themselves.

This all registered in the back of her mind while thoughts of dinner invaded the front. At the mention of food her stomach had given an almighty lurch of longing. How had she not realized she was starving?

To answer his question, Hermione grabbed Remus' hand and took off down the hallway towards the stairs and the kitchen.

The enthusiastic scuttling from the doorway drew Sirius' attention to the bouncing Hermione-and-Remus creature that had taken up the frame.

Hermione felt like a child waiting for the cookies to be done, but it was worth it. Something she'd discovered in her many counsel-seeking trips to Grimmauld Place: Sirius Black was a Kitchen God.

He even made good toast, something Hermione had yet to figure out. And whatever he had in that massive pot smelled like heaven.

Beyond that, Sirius could pull off an apron with the kind of panache that most men could only dream of. And she'd be lying if she said she wasn't the tiniest bit attracted to him when he stood at the stove. It was like watching a rock star in action, so she took a moment to check out Sirius' casual pose.

His hair, unlike Remus', was as black as ever. He'd finally cut it to a more reasonable chin-length shag after Ginny had commented for the fifth time that the 'Disgusting-ex-prisoner/split-ends-that-look-like-they've-been-chewed-on-by-rats look' was _so_ out. It wasn't that he cared what Ginny thought, he'd confessed to Hermione later, but he just couldn't stand her fashion tips and Mrs. Weasley's nods of agreement _every time_ he stopped by the Burrow. Hermione could sympathize due to Ginny's relentless attack on her own hair maintenance habits.

Sirius' face had filled out to a less skeletal look in the past few years, and the beginnings of lines around his mouth were appearing when he smiled widely. He, also unlike Remus, didn't have his teenage body. His height wasn't so intimidating as she'd remembered it, his arms not as built up. The beater's muscles he'd had were replaced by an elegant smoothness to his body. The hints of strength were still there, but less ostentatiously so. Not to mention, he had stopped wearing shirts so tight the sleeves strained around his upper arms in a way that would make a tailor faint.

And so, the thirty-something Sirius Black stood at his lazily bubbling pot of stew, observing his roommates' ravenous expressions with amusement and no small amount of smugness apparent on his face.

"Good evening, Hermione. Hungry?" He asked teasingly.

"Are you going to make me beg?" Hermione whined. Not that she wouldn't, she thought to herself, considering her decidedly empty stomach and the fact that he had a monopoly on kitchen skills.

"Not this time." He smiled easily. And with that, Hermione and Remus sat down at the massive table Remus had earlier set for three, waiting for their supper.

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_A/N: Questions? Comments? Love? Hate? Let me know. Review!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter._

_Author's Note/Apology: I've had this chapter ready for AGES, but there was computer drama- so I'm sorry for making you wait. I'll be so much speedier next time, promise. Thanks.  
_

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"...and so Mr. Potter and Mr. Ronald Weasley were selected to go." Kingsley finished his long-winded speech.

The kitchen of Grimmauld Place collectively twitched at the conclusion. For the most part, the order members had been lulled into relaxation by Kingsley's soothing voice as he described a mission to survey Europe at large for elusive death eaters that the ministry couldn't officially send aurors after. It was at the point that he'd started describing the political bureaucracy that most of them had slipped into listening with half their brains, except Hermione. She had been listening with nothing less than rapt attention.

At the announcement of the two order members chosen to carry out the task, everyone perked up in surprise. It made sense, they were both training Aurors, had experience with travel and in the field, and, of course, he was Harry bleeding Potter. There were no protests on that count, but everyone's eyes were flicking to Hermione without even an attempt at subtlety. Even Luna had abandoned her dreamy demeanor and was eying Hermione incredulously.

Hermione resisted the urge to look at the table in shame or anger, and instead kept focused on Kingsley.

.

"Minister?"

"Remus?" Kingsley replied, subtly reminding him that they were on first-name basis.

"Er. Why Harry and Ron?" Remus asked, silently adding 'and not Hermione?'. He may as well have said it out loud, because everyone, Harry and Ron included, was surprised at the exclusion. Kingsley chose to ignore it.

"They are very capable, have training, and I have as much confidence in them as I would my own aurors." He gave a nod at Tonks, who blushed blue. "Furthermore, they should make a good team, without any distractions." He smiled kindly at the boys, Ron's ears turning pink at the praise.

"But why Harry and Ron, and not Ron and Hermione or Hermione and Harry?" Ginny asked bluntly from Hermione's side.

Remus could see the strain under the bushy haired girl's calm. Whether anyone else could, he didn't know. The way that the corners of her lips were turned up with a little more force than was natural was a dead giveaway; she always did that when Mrs. Weasley asked her about Oliver. At Ginny's mention of the forced breakup of the notoriously close-knit trio, he saw the tiniest twitch in her jaw. She was good, there was no denying, but not good enough.

Hermione wasn't the only one to tense up at Ginny's question. Harry, Ron, and Kinsley adopted expressions so awkward it was almost painful. Kingsley shuffled the papers in his hands in a rare gesture of discomfort.

"After some discussion between, interested parties," He accidentally looked at Tonks, who looked at Mad-Eye. "it became apparent that, well, certain events better equip Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley- the research in this situation is limited, and well..." Kingsley trailed off guiltily, looking at the table.

Everyone, Remus included was studying Hermione's reaction. She seemed calm enough. There were twin spots of red growing on her cheeks, but her face was otherwise blank. For one breathless moment Remus thought she'd start screaming, but she surprised them all with a bright smile.

She turned to Harry and enveloped him in a hug, reaching her other arm past him to Ron to bring him in by the neck.

"Congratulations you two! This is a big step." When she pulled away, her smile was cheery and her eyes gleaming. The rest of the order burst into similar praise, getting up to shake the boy's hands on their first big mission alone.

Unnoticed by most, Hermione slipped out of the room. It only took about ten seconds until Remus' sensitive ears were assaulted.

"MOTHER FUCK!"

Remus allowed himself a few seconds of satisfaction at knowing he hadn't misread her before looking around. Most people had missed Hermione's dulcet exclamation, too busy congratulating Harry and Ron. It was only the people who'd been listening for it that caught the faint strains of further, and quite creative, profanity coming from the floor above. Sirius had an amused ear cocked to the door, and Remus knew that with the minor help his canine counterpart provided his sense of hearing Sirius could probably just make out what Hermione was saying. Kingsley's forehead had broken out in a sweat that could only have been brought on by Hermione's ire, and Mrs. Weasley's lips were pressed together in maternal concern- her eyes darting to the door a bit more often than was natural.

Remus was probably the only one who heard her quiet footsteps on the floorboards above in time to school his features as if he hadn't been listening in. The other three eavesdroppers jumped and looked away at Hermione's re-entrance to the room. She came back in appearing every bit as calm and collected as when she'd walked out, but the strain behind it was lessened. When she went to pat Harry and Ron on the back and resume her rightful place at their sides she did so with more sincerity than she'd had before.

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"Hermione?" Sirius called with laughter in his voice.

"What?" She snapped. She was covered in wood polish up to the elbows and scrubbing the stubborn banister. She'd been at it all day and was getting sore. And irritable, it would seem.

"Why aren't you using magic?" He asked, sidetracked. She'd used magic to replace the disgusting runner on the stairs and hallways with a more appealing red. Gryffindor red, to be exact, which tickled Sirius to no end. She'd also used magic to polish the scuffed floors. She'd let Remus help with the wallpapering, as it was a lot of work to cover the hallways and stairways of Grimmauld Place and Hermione was too tired to keep her wand hand steady to match the creamy vertical stripes to her liking.

"Because," Hermione started acidly, "The woodwork of the banister is too delicate, after years and years of neglect, to handle ordinary cleaning and polishing. Instead, I had to search magical London for a restoring potion and polish which apparently must be applied by hand." By the end of her speech, she'd lost the acid and adopted a kinder tone. She knew it wasn't Sirius' fault that his father, when decorating this house, had chosen such a finicky material for railing. It was expensive, high maintenance, and right up the Senior Black's alley. At Sirius' face, Hermione felt guilty for lecturing him.

"Sorry, I'm just a little tired." Hermione apologized softly, receiving a pat on the shoulder for her efforts. It was when Sirius reached up to touch her shoulder that she actually looked at him. "You look great."

And he did. He'd abandoned his usual black jeans and ratty t-shirt for slacks and a button down shirt. His hair was clean and neat, his robes casually open, but expensively made. His shoes, a pair of old black boots that he wore nearly every day, were the only thing about him that hinted at his usual sloppy dress. Standing next to him in her potion-stained and oversized t-shirt and shorts, Hermione felt the impulse to take a step back in deference to his spotless garb.

"Hot date?" She asked him, eyebrow raised. She didn't know what reaction she'd expected, but blushing wasn't it.

And yet, there it was, the telltale reddening at his jawline that would creep up to his cheeks and down his neck if given the opportunity. "Actually, er, yeah." He mumbled, refusing to meet eye contact.

Hermione didn't understand why he was so embarrassed, it was just a date. She wondered if it had something to do with who...

"Who with?" Hermione fished.

"Just a woman from the ministry Remus is setting me up with." Sirius shrugged. "You aren't...uncomfortable?"

"No, you can bring girls here. It's your house, so why-" Oh. Ooooh. "Sirius, you know I'm not, you know, jealous or anything, right?" She asked. Honestly, it hadn't occurred to her to be jealous. So what if he went out with someone? They hadn't been anything even _like _a couple in twenty years. Or two, depending on perspective. She didn't want him to be worried about dating with her around.

At her announcement Sirius clutched his heart dramatically. "You wound my pride!" He declared, falling onto the newly clean carpet in pretend agony. He writhed for a moment, paused and looked up at Hermione pointedly. She just put her hand on her hip and stared him down. Noting her lack of participation, he started twisting melodramatically again.

"You're messing up your hair and clothes I hope you know." Hermione stated matter-of-factly. At this, Sirius sprang up and started running his hands through his hair in an attempt to get it to lay right.

It was after almost a full minute of adjustment that Sirius realized Hermione was laughing at him.

"Oh, shut up." He grinned at her, walking to the stairway. He stopped on the first step, caught Hermione's eye and winked. "Don't wait up." With that, he disappeared from view.

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Later that evening found Hermione in the Black Family Library.

She'd only gotten around to a few dusting spells, but those had improved the room immensely. As it was, she'd lit a fire and was enjoying it's warmth as she perused a detailed history of witch burnings. She turned another page to hear quiet footfalls on the carpet of the room. Her eyes flicked up to her approaching visitor, Remus. He gave her a soft smile before ignoring the ancient armchairs in the room to sit next to her on the couch. He pulled out his own book and started reading, so Hermione resumed. It was about half an hour later that Remus spoke.

"Do you miss them yet?" His voice was neutral, making Hermione look up. He was talking about Harry and Ron. They'd left two days ago for their extra-special-no-girls-allowed mission that Hermione was not one bit jealous of. Not at all.

"A little." It wasn't so much that she missed them, they'd gone longer than two days without seeing each other plenty of times. It was more that she knew she wouldn't hear from them for awhile and they were off doing something dangerous _without her_. She was worried and steeling herself for the possibility that she wouldn't get word from them in several weeks. But 'A little' was so much more concise, so she left it at that.

Remus hummed his understanding. "So are you 'a little' pissed off that you got left behind for this one?"

How had he known?

"Yes!" God, it was a relief for Hermione to say it. "Kingsley can be such an arse sometimes." She pouted unconsciously. She was intensely frustrated when Remus started chuckling from beside her.

"But you know why he did it, right?" He asked through his laugh.

"Because he's sexist and thinks the women need to stay home for cooking and research?" Hermione snarled, crossing her arms across her chest.

"Not really." Remus smiled. "You know- he thinks of you as a niece, I suppose. A lot of the Order feels that way about you. It's all well and good to let Ron and Harry out to do Merlin-knows-what, but not _their little girl_."

"Oh fabulous." Hermione's expression shifted to a glower. "I do so love being treated like a baby. Why can't they get like that about Ginny?"

"Ginny's already got a mother in the order, you don't. Tends to rile up our protective instincts." Remus explained. It couldn't be more obvious that he found both this conversation and her reactions amusing.

"You include yourself in that?" Hermione raised a brow at him, daring him to confirm.

"Not exactly." He hedged. "I've known you since I was seventeen, making it somewhat impossible to see you as a little girl in need of coddling." He put a familiar arm around her shoulders and pulled her reluctant form into his for a swift hug. After a second she allowed herself to be comforted by him and the cedar smell that lingered on his hair and skin and clothes.

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_A/N: Love it? Hate it? Review! I do love them so..  
_


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Not even close._

_._

Hermione could practically _feel _her hair getting larger. On a good day, it would stay in springy curls- (never properly glossy or anything, she'd leave that to Lavender and Romilda) but when she was in the potions workshop, surrounded by steam and a sauna heat that Sweden would be proud of, all hell broke loose on top of her head. The worst of it was that her hair acted as a monstrous insulator, turning the slightly too warm cupboard/workshop into an oven.

Little rivulets of sweat were running down her face, tickling her jaw, dampening her hair. There was one particularly annoying drop making it's way slowly from the nape of her neck down her spine. Her back, shoulder, elbow, and neck all ached, but she couldn't stop stirring. If she did, two things would happen. One, the refined and experimental sleeping potion she was producing would be ruined. It required four hours of non-stop stirring, sixty-four turns clockwise, and ninety-seven turns counterclockwise. Repeat until golden brown. At the moment it was still frustratingly taupe. The second thing that would happen was that the paunchy potions master who was leaning over her shoulder would promptly fire her from her internship. And Hermione would be damned if she lost her chance to be a potions mistress just because this hawk-faced, balding, tweed-encased tosser with a napoleon complex was taking gross advantage of his trainee.

The leering man behind her sniffed with impatience, making Hermione want to smack him. She satisfied herself by clenching her jaw and stirring with increased gusto. Much to her surprise, she was thinking wistfully of her project at home. She'd just finished re-installing the gruesome hardware in the bathrooms throughout the house. When she got to it that evening, she'd take an absurdly long and hot bath in the second-floor bathroom and beg Sirius to make her a little dinner. If she wasn't permanently crippled from today's work, she may even get on with one of her other tasks-perhaps organizing the burial, installing new carpet in the freshly painted study, or-

"Witch!" Hermione was brought out of her daze by the shriek of frustration coming from just above her left shoulder. She looked down at the potion that was now just the right shade- two more turns and she would've ruined it. Oops.

"What, may I ask, was so important that you nearly wrecked this valuable, volatile concoction?" He snatched the bronze paddle out of Hermione's hand and shoved her arms away from her brew. "Hmm? Little girl, you should not get in the practice of day dreaming while you're in my workshop, unless you want to be on the street. I have witches and wizards much more talented than you knocking down my door to train under me and I don't need a feather-headed brat underfoot, do I make myself clear?"

He had pushed his face so close to Hermione's that she could've counted the hairs in his eyebrows, and he couldn't have failed to notice the tears welling up in her eyes. That didn't stop him though.

"If you plan on dragging yourself into work on Tuesday, you had better think long and hard about how very lucky you are to be working under a Potions Master like myself- why I'm not tossing you out right here and now, I don't know. Dismissed." Potions Master Higgitt barked at her. He turned back to the cauldron Hermione had been slaving over all day and began cooing to his potion.

"Y-yes sir." Hermione choked out in a whisper. As she lifted herself off of her stool, she could hear her knees crack out of the position she'd been in. She gathered up the few things she'd brought with her and slipped them into her bag, exiting with as much grace as her aching bones could manage.

The last place she wanted to be right now was Diagon Ally, but she had to walk all the way back down it to reach the apparition point. She kept her tear stained cheeks to herself as best she could as she walked down the road. Luckily, the street was crowded for three in the afternoon and she could blend with the shoppers with relative ease.

Once she'd gotten to the correct exit point, she focused on Grimmauld Place and turned on the spot.

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It was her unfortunate choice to appear in the kitchen, where Sirius had just completed a sandwich. Upon hearing her accidental sniffle, he turned away from the counter and towards a particularly blotchy version of Hermione.

"You look terrible." Sirius stated, punctuating his words with a bite. He was still standing, or rather leaning against the counter. Hermione hated it when he ate like that, only spurring him on to make it a habit.

It was true. Her hair was enormous, and tangled for being so. She should've put it up, he thought to himself. Her eyes were lined with red, her skin pale except for the bright red bits high up on her cheeks and the tip of her nose. Her blouse was rolled up a bit on one arm, but not the other, and was wet at the collar. All this could've gone ignored, but the furrowed brow, down turned mouth, and shining eyes were proof that she was either angry or upset.

Not that this last bit had registered with Sirius before he'd blurted out his honest opinion on her experience. He wasn't so completely stupid as to _try _to make it worse. It was her own fault really, she refused to wear makeup, and tear tracks are so much easier to notice when they're black. To his infinite surprise, Hermione didn't yell at him. She didn't do anything for that matter, except exit the room- shooting him an annoyed glance as she went.

He figured it must not have been too bad if she didn't want to take it out on him. No more than two minutes later Sirius heard the telltale running water that meant Hermione was taking a bath. He took his time finishing his midday snack, taking care to crumble a bit of his bread onto the floor to antagonize Remus and Hermione. With a satisfied thunk he replaced his empty plate on the counter.

Just then the fire turned a lurid green and out stepped a Weasley. Specifically, a Weasley Twin. With one dignified brush of the shoulder, the twin in question turned around to face Sirius. Ah. George. Not hard to tell with a great hole in the side of his head.

"George, not to be rude mate, but what're you doing here?" Sirius grinned at the redhead.

"Where's Hermione?" George answered, looking around the room as if expecting her to be hiding behind a support beam or something. After his second agitated pirouette, Sirius took pity.

"She's in the bath."

"Oh." George's face sparked with hope, but then fell. "Oh. Fred and I saw her in Diagon. She looked-"

"Terrible?" Sirius offered.

"I was going for 'upset' actually. She's been having a rough time at potions lately." He frowned in sympathy. "Can't imagine she's running on too long a fuze as it is, what with Harry and Ron."

"Since when are you insightful?" Sirius asked. He hadn't known anything was wrong with her apprenticeship. Though now he did he kind of wanted to punch someone over it. Since he didn't know the name or location of her potions master, he'd have to settle for snarkiness.

"Since it's clear as day that someone's making Hermione less Hermione-ish. She hasn't come by to scold us over our products in almost a week. Not that we miss it." George added hastily.

After a moment of tense silence, George sighed, "Mind if I wait?"

"Course not. Want something to eat?" Sirius was already moving to the icebox again.

"Sure."

They were quiet as Sirius assembled another sandwich. He summoned the bread from the pantry, silently contemplating his roommate. Why didn't she talk to him? It wasn't like he wasn't a good listener. He could listen with the best of them. He had unparallelled listening abilities. He slapped down a bit of ham a little too enthusiastically.

Or was she worried he'd do something? Fly off the handle? Strangle whatever stuffed shirt had upset his Hermione? He spread on mustard with an annoyed flick of the wrist.

She didn't trust him to keep his temper, huh? Fine. Or worse, did she think he'd laugh at her? He stopped mid-swipe.

Did she think that?

A quiet gasp from the door drew Sirius' attention, he turned. Hermione had walked in, fresh from the bath in a cozy t-shirt and jeans. She hadn't done a strong enough drying charm and her curls were still a little drawn out. She looked better though, than she had when she'd walked in a half hour ago. George's head turned when Sirius' had and he left his chair with a jump, taking only a few strides in Hermione's direction before he was standing in front of her. He stopped and held Hermione at arm's length, gently gripping her shoulders.

"Bad day?" He asked, looking into her rapidly filling eyes. That was all it took.

With a broken "Oh George!" Hermione allowed herself to be folded into George Weasley's sympathetic arms.

Sirius could only watch on as the younger red head slowly walked her out of the room, shushing and cooing to her sob-wracked body. The last words Sirius could make out were a soft, "You know you always have a job at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes." This elicited a gurgle from Hermione somewhere down the hall.

Sirius stood in the kitchen for a minute or two with only the cold feeling in his stomach and George's forgotten meal for company. Slowly he came back to his useless reality, chucked the food in the bin, and flooed out.

.

"I'm sorry, love." George pushed an errant curl from Hermione's face.

She felt better after having relayed the events of her potions near-failure that afternoon. It also helped that his shirt was terribly absorbent. Now she sat, somewhat calmly, on a couch in the library with George's comforting arms around her middle and her head resting on his shoulder.

"Are you alright now?" He asked, giving her back a pat. She took that as her cue to stop leaning on him and attempted to right herself before his iron grip made her resume her previous position. It couldn't have been comfortable for him, but that was one of the best things about George. He didn't care.

The only thing this scenario was lacking was Fred. He'd be sitting on her other side; first fuming at her mistreatment, then making jokes that were highly inappropriate. They were better than anti-depressants, the twins. George for comfort, Fred for comedy. Then when she was done crying, they'd switch roles. Fred was rubbish with tears, but a better pillow- and he liked playing with Hermione's hair.

"George, really, I'm fine." She pulled away again, and this time he let her.

Most people didn't '_get_' her being friends with the twins, or even realize the alliance existed. She wasn't sure when they'd gotten the bump from Ron's Brothers to Friends, but it had happened sometime during her secondary training. She'd gone to the shop here and there to find out where they got this or that potion ingredient. Then they'd all gone to get an ice cream one afternoon, lunch another.

The first time she'd noticed they were actually friends was when she'd been running through her homework in the scruffy bedroom that passed for a private dorm. Just as she'd been about to go through her perfect essay the third time, the two red-headed human bludgers had burst through her door and insisted she take them to a "mover".

They were, in their own ways, perfect for her.

"I don't know what I would've done if you weren't here." Hermione smiled over at George and shifted in her seat to get a better view of him.

"Can't you talk to Sirius? Or Remus?" He asked.

"And be an even bigger burden?" She asked. She gave him a half-smile, half-grimace.

"True." He nodded somberly. "You're so demanding. I don't know how they put up with you. It'd be a different matter if you were helping around the house, or brewing complex potions for them, or if they actually _liked _you-" He was cut off by a playful smack on the arm, but Hermione was smiling full-out now.

"Alright. I get it." She chuckled, bringing a handkerchief to dab at her nose one last time.

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_A/N: I know your mouse-finger is itching to press that review button. Give in..._


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: Harry Potter verse is the property of Jk Rowling._

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Sirius turned over his third shot of firewiskey. The thick glass made a heavy thunk on the rich wood of the bar at the Three Broomsticks. This was the third night he'd ignored the well stocked cabinet in the study in favor of strange company and overpriced booze.

Truth was, he just didn't want to go home tonight. The peace was deafening and the company too much for him. Better to find another place to sleep. With that thought, Sirius turned to the leggy witch beside him and forgot about everything else.

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Hermione could easily be called a creature of habit.

She always had been- work, study, save Harry's neck, library, sleep. That was her pattern in Hogwarts, and the one she'd been employing recently. She'd had to cut out Harry and replace it with cutting back venomous tentacula in the garden, but other than that, everything was the same.

Every night she'd wander into the library, cast a cooling fire in the grate and settle down either to run through her work the next day or to lose herself in a novel. To her immense delight, her library time in the House of Black wasn't entirely solitary.

A secret smile crept to her lips as the clock on the mantle chimed eight. By eight-oh-five Remus walked trough the door she'd left ajar. He strolled casually to the bookcase and plucked out one of the newer tomes without a moment's hesitation. He continued his nightly path to the seat on the couch next to Hermione and sat down. She loved her evening time with Remus.

Hermione peeked over her book to greet her companion. He had been watching her, as if she were the green-light for him to settle down. With a flick of the eye, she buried herself in her book once again, feeling Remus shift to do the same.

.

It was getting late, they both knew it, but it was too comfortable on the worn upholstery of the couch for them to be bothered with getting up and going to their proper bedrooms. By two am the once roaring fire had burnt down to a single glowing log, and the candles were getting low enough that reading was becoming more and more challenging. And yet they stayed.

Remus looked down at the witch using him as a pillow. Something about the way that her bushy hair spread across his lap and the weight of her head made Remus calm. It was like coming home again after twenty years of travel. He'd gotten used to her not being around, and then there she was again. Hermione. Hermione with her crazy hair and her constant reading and that lingering scent of sugar that seemed to come off her for no reason. Hermione, who'd chosen his secret over telling her friends, the best study partner he'd ever had, one of the bravest people he knew. Hermione.

The now impossible-to-read-by glow that came from the fireplace and few guttering candles lit her face up with orange light. It threw her facial features into high relief, turning her from wholesome to borderline exotic. Her cheekbones seemed higher, her eyes darker, and the hollows of her throat and collarbones were more pronounced. It was hard to say if Hermione was more beautiful now, or when she was focused on her book as he'd first walked in. Remus knew what Sirius had seen in her.

He always had.

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Hermione. His ex-student. Hermione: Sirius' ex-girl. Hermione: his roommate. Hermione: eighteen years younger than him. Hermione: one of 'the golden trio' and Order Darling.

Remus kept a running mantra of reasons why he shouldn't be noticing how long her legs were, how nicely she filled out a blouse, and how cute she was when she'd first woken up. And it was working.

The hefty guilt he slung onto his own shoulders put enough of a damper on his libido that he was able to function during, and even enjoy, his time around his favorite female roommate. Then when he'd gotten to the ministry for work he was able to sweep all thoughts of her to the side and focus on work. Out of sight, out of mind.

It was only when he wasn't prepared, like when he'd run into her in the hall last night. He had only just registered the fact that she was there when Moony growled in the back of his mind. He'd pushed her away as gently and quickly as possible, apologized, and went to his room to focus, intently, on his report on Centaur Rights. Needless to say, this strategy pissed Moony off to no end- but Remus was determined.

If he could pretend not to be a werewolf, he could pretend not to be attracted to Hermione Granger. Easy.

.

'There's something wrong with Moony.' thought Sirius.

Sirius had been watching him for about a week now, and there was no doubt about it: Remus was acting weird. Usually during this time of the month he was getting tired and mopey and generally being a big baby about the nearness of the full moon.

But Remus wasn't acting sluggish at all. He was tense and pacing around like an animal in a cage. It came upon him slowly, but as Sirius watched Moony pacing around the kitchen while he waited for breakfast he knew that something was up with his best friend.

"Moony?" He made a show of concentrating on not breaking the yolks of the eggs in the pan. Out of his peripheral vision he saw Remus' head quirk up and he stopped his prowling in answer to his friend's call. Without a verbal answer, Sirius pressed on. "Going to tell me why you're wearing a hole in my kitchen floor?"

Remus looked down at the flagstone floor as if for the evidence of his pacing that Sirius claimed.

"Alright, it was an exaggeration. You do remember those, yes?" Sirius sighed, turning off the burner and facing his friend properly.

"Of course I know." Remus said. He looked peaky, but that was from the moon. There was no other excuse for his dazed expression or listless behavior, but something made Sirius question it.

"So tell me, is it work, wolf, or woman?" Sirius hopped up onto the counter to stare Remus down, knowing his inner wolf was susceptible to this kind of trick.

"Are those the only things that could possibly be bothering me?" Remus asked through gritted teeth, his ears and neck getting pink.

"Unless you've switched to men and didn't tell me, yes." Sirius leveled him with a look. It was easy to get to Remus this close to the full moon, and Sirius knew he shouldn't exploit it. But it was just so easy. His wolfish dislike for displays of dominance would get Remus just annoyed enough for his every thought to flicker on his face. This was how Sirius knew that it wasn't work or his inconvenient lycanthropy that was getting to his friend.

"So who is she?" He wasn't a fan of beating around the bush, but perhaps he shouldn't have pushed his friend. Remus did something that was thought impossible two days before the full moon: He walked out on breakfast, brushing past Hermione on his way out.

"Good morning, Sirius." She caroled. It was after ten in the morning, or else it would've been a growl, this he knew. As it was, she flounced into the room and settled at the table. "Is Remus alright?" She asked, briefly allowing a concerned crease to mar her brow, making Sirius chuckle.

"He's just in a snit, love, nothing to worry about." It was hard for his mood not to be lightened by her cheerful presence. That and the peek of thigh that showed below the shorts she'd taken to working on the house in. It didn't hurt to look a little, but he knew to keep his distance. He rarely needed to reassure himself of their friendship anymore, as being with Hermione was natural for him now.

"Ah. So I guess I'll have to go it alone today? Since it's the weekend, I figured I'd tackle the drawing room." She smirked as he placed a plate of eggs, sausage, and toast in front of her.

"I'm afraid so," Sirius settled opposite her in his usual chair to tuck in. "I'd help you, but I've got very, erm, urgent, news for Kingsley that must be discussed at length." By that, he meant that he'd be spending the afternoon having a drink with his friend, but Hermione needn't know. She had every reason to believe that it was Ministry business that had them talking, and unless Hermione checked his Gringotts account for a consultancy fee, she would buy his mild fabrications. Or not.

"Leaky Cauldron or Three Broomsticks?" Hermione's tone was casual, but the gleam in her eye was teasing. "Or are you slumming at the Hog's Head? Wouldn't do for the Minister to be caught there."

Sirius could feel his cheeks flushing. She never could go easy on him, could she? "Leaky." He said with the little bit of shame that only she could bring out in him. "Sorry. I would help-"

"You most certainly would not. I can't have you helping me pay my rent, it'd defeat the purpose. You have no reason to apologize." She adopted her primmest tone and sat up a little straighter in her chair.

"Now, about that. I'm not so sure-" But Hermione cut him off with a wave of her hand.

"I'm not going to hear another word against it." She bossed. "We have an arrangement, and that is that." Hermione punctuated her statement by scooping up a piece of toast and taking a resolute bite.

"Fine." Sirius had, as usual, finished eating before her and so banished his plate to the sink and got up. "But if you need any help-"

"I won't." Merlin she was so stubborn.

"Alright. Don't touch the liquor cabinet or so help me I _will _clean the rest of the house myself." The threat would've sounded extremely odd to anyone else, but Hermione's cast iron glare let Sirius know he'd gotten to her. With her brown eyes on his back, he headed up to his room to get his money bag.

Sirius patted his person down for a moment to assure himself he wasn't missing anything. Money? Check. Cleanliness? Check. Overly casual outfit to remind everyone that I'm an ex-convict, quasi-aristocrat, and war hero? Check.

With a turn he apparated himself down to the kitchen. The clatter of silverware let him know he'd accomplished his goal in startling the still-dining Hermione.

"Alright, I'm going to pick up a few things while I'm out. Need anything?" He turned to his roommate.

"No." Hermione slipped another bit of egg into her mouth.

"Alright." Sirius made a mental note to get her some new quills and ink. And that fudge she liked, which was it? Never mind, he'd remember at Honeydukes.

Still lost in his own thoughts, Sirius leaned down to drop a kiss high on her cheek.

"I'll be back later, love, don't work yourself too hard." He murmured as he leaned up. With a final smile and half a wave, Sirius threw some powder into the fireplace and was gone.

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_A/N: So? Thoughts? Feelings? Questions? Need to vent? I'm here to listen, and adore your feedback._


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

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_A/N: My computer crashed. Replacement hard drives were brought in, and I lost ALL of this story. I only just got my laptop back, and so I thought I'd give you a mini-chapter/scene. This was pretty much the thought that popped in my head when I heard the NEON TREES song THE NEXT ROOM, so while this isn't a songfic I'd recommend giving it a listen. I'll try to reconstruct my lost chapters, but this has slowed down the story by ages. Sorry, and hope you like. _

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Sirius ran his tongue over his teeth, relishing the minty freshness of his favorite toothpaste. It was the first night in awhile that he'd stayed home and a part of him was wondering why he didn't do it more often. He ignored the obvious answer as he looked at his reflection. In the harsh light of the third floor bathroom, Sirius couldn't help but notice the ways he'd changed.

A critical index finger traced one of the lines forming on his cheek from smiling. The same hand roughly rubbed his evening stubble, aware that it wouldn't be long before he began to see silver there. Sirius Black, how much he'd changed. He had lost so much weight since his boyhood, and now had to work a bit to stay trim as opposed to skeletal.

Soon a day would come that no one cared that he was once a notorious murderer, a day when women would laugh at him if he asked them for drinks. The part of him that had spent the evening cooking for Remus and Hermione and playing poker with his roommates and a twin (God only knew which) wasn't so horrified that his time as a sex symbol was limited, but the idea of shuffling around this old house like a taller Kreacher was enough to put the fear in a man.

Sirius leaned far forward until he could only see his eyes in the mirror. No pajamas, no wrinkles, no body to be worried about. He leaned in until he could only see his gray irises. There he was. Those eyes had been the same color his entire life, and if he ever needed reminding that he was, in fact, Sirius Fucking Black, all he had to do was look.

With a little bounce, Sirius pushed himself off of the sink and turned for the door. He opened it and very nearly tripped over someone sitting on the floor beside it.

"Oi!" Sirius barked in surprise, trying to regain his footing. He'd expected some kind of yelp at being stepped on, but instead Remus just looked up from his unusually crumpled position against the wall. When the werewolf didn't respond, Sirius ducked his head to meet Remus' glassy eyes.

"Waiting on the bathroom?" Sirius asked, taking in his friend's location.

"No." Remus didn't continue.

"Well," Sirius sat down against the railing that Hermione had worked so hard to polish, facing Remus. "Care to share?"

"No." Remus said shortly. He lifted his thumbnail to his mouth and looked at the red runner on the hallway floor.

Sirius could hear a scratching noise and glanced to Moony's other hand. His nails were wearing scratch marks into the wood of the floor. Without thinking, Sirius grabbed his friend's wrist to stop him causing more damage. This recalled Remus' attention to the situation.

"Is it the moon?" The night before was always hardest on Remus. It was a full month's worth of built up tension with no release, making his roommate something like a coiled spring. The strain was evident in his clammy skin and his active eyes, reminiscent of a junkie in need of a fix. Remus finally made proper eye-contact with his friend.

"No-yes." Remus changed his answer as soon as the first got out. His head suddenly cocked to the side, hearing something that Sirius hadn't picked up on. Sirius' eyes followed the gesture and landed on the door that was just a little past the bathroom.

"Is this- what is this?" Sirius' eyebrows shot up in suspicion. He scanned Moony's frame again, taking in the fact he hadn't changed out of the day's jeans and shirt, the way his hair was sticking out on the sides, as if it had be grabbed and pulled over and over again. Again, Sirius had Remus' full attention.

"Padfoot." Remus said slowly, unable to concentrate. "You have no idea how good she smells."

Now that he was listening for it, Sirius picked up on an almost silent sigh coming from Hermione's room.

Sirius sat up suddenly as if an electric current had been run through his body. This was bad. He leaned forward so that the only thing Remus could possibly see was Sirius' face and tightened his grip on his best friend's wrist. His voice was low, but he knew Remus could hear every word.

"We are going to skip past the fact that you are eighteen years her senior, that you are no longer in school with a pretty girl, but living with her, and that she is one of our best friends and doesn't need this right now, because at the moment all you need to know is that she doesn't want you to-" he couldn't find the right description. "-anything. In this state, you don't know what you're doing. I'm taking you to your room now."

Sirius stood, and Remus shakily followed suit. After depositing him in his room, Sirius cast a silent locking charm on Remus' door to make sure that Hermione wouldn't find a werewolf sleeping outside her door in the morning. In fact, it wasn't until he was lying on top of his blanket, staring at the ceiling that Sirius realized that he wasn't entirely sure he didn't want to camp out on the third floor himself.

With an exhausted sigh, Sirius rolled over and shut his eyes tight, trying to block out the deafening memory of a teenaged Sirius Black and a shadowy Hogwarts classroom.

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_A/N: Reviews make chapters come out faster/better. Love it? Hate it? Praise and abuse can be delivered swiftly by clicking on the REVIEW button. Thanks for reading._


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Remember chapter 6's note? Well, the poor laptop is dead. Re-rewriting the story on another machine. (sigh) But! I managed to get you another chapter. Enjoy! _

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_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, hence the FAN in FANfiction._

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"What on earth is this for?" Hermione asked with a wrinkled nose. She warily balanced the slightly squishy ball between two fingers and held it away from her face.

"That, my dear, is not important." George's hand deftly swiped the ball away from Hermione's tentative grasp.

"Wouldn't sell that to you anyhow." Fred appeared beside his twin. Hermione would've sworn that it was magic if she didn't know that the twins were just _like_ that. "We have a strict no-family policy when it comes to certain items. Couldn't have you-"

"-Or Ginny-" George added with a toss of the ball.

"-Or Mum coming in here and buying our wares. There are some things that Georgie and I just don't need to know." Fred grimaced.

"But Fleur-" George grinned.

"That's a different story." Fred matched his twin's lascivious smirk.

"Shall I just leave then?" Hermione pursed her lips at her friends. "Because you two don't seem to need me for conversation or currency. I may as well enjoy this lovely day in Diagon Ally by myself- shopping in stores that'll allow me to purchase their items."

"Oh, don't be like that." Fred wrapped an arm around her neck, pulling her into an almost-headlock.

"We were just joking." George smiled angelically.

"Actually, we weren't." Fred contradicted. "You have no business perusing the seedy shelves of our shop, why don't you go pick out a nice portable swamp, eh?" Fred would've been ashamed had he known how Percy-like he sounded at the moment. "I won't have you wandering these back shelves and getting into trouble, ruining your reputation."

As Fred forcibly steered a stumbling Hermione back to the front of the store, Hermione heard George whisper next to her "But I will.", and slip the ball into Hermione's bag. She raised an eyebrow, but George simply gave her a wink in return.

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"So, m'lady, what are your weekend plans, hm?" Fred asked as they reached the door. "Because we were considering having a get-together-"

"-Small-" George interjected.

"-with a few of our _very _closest friends-"

"And their dates." George finished.

"Well in that case," Hermione smiled, "I'll be sure to keep a six-mile minimum safe distance. Goodbye boys." She leaned up to give each twin a kiss on the cheek before exiting the busy store and entering the even busier street.

She took the single step down from the shop door only to be run into by a dangerous-looking mother of four who didn't stop to apologize, much less help Hermione up from the cobblestones or assist her in gathering up the items from her shoulder bag that were rolling off in different directions.

Hermione was desperately scrabbling for her quills and a few stray coins when a large pair of long-fingered hands appeared out of nowhere to collect her ink bottle and and a notebook. It took Hermione a moment to realize that she actually knew her helping hands.

"Remus!" Hermione yelped, following the fingers to arms to shoulders until she finally caught his gaze. "What're you doing here?"

"Shopping. And trying to ensure that your notes don't get trampled." Remus smiled, offering a hand to help Hermione up from her undignified position on the ground. "Actually, Sirius is around here somewhere." Remus said, looking through the bustling crowd.

As if in answer to a call, Sirius came skipping gleefully up- strongly reminding Hermione of a dog that's just successfully fetched a stick. With a smile, he deposited a handful of Hermione's escaped coins and a quill into her hands.

Hermione tucked the recovered items back into her bag, only to look up at a smug Sirius once more. With a grin that looked so wide it had to be painful,Sirius plonked Hermione's recent acquisition from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes into her open palm.

Hermione's eyes widened.

Sirius' grin grew.

Remus' cheeks flared red.

"Fancy meeting you here." Sirius stated nonchalantly.

.

"I don't know how you do it." Sirius stated matter-of-factly. His shoulder ached and it had only been an hour or so.

"If I wanted the paint to change color, or whistle, or go on in a spatter pattern, I would use magic. As it is, there's no good magical substitute for a roller and paint." Hermione stated primly, applying another coat of something she called 'cottage cream' (but was actually white paint) with a bizarre amount of ease. It didn't help his self esteem that Remus seemed to have little to no problem with _his_ shoulders. In fact, he was applying it with such enthusiasm that there were slashes of white all over his t-shirt, jeans, and bare feet. It occurred to Sirius that the entire process may go faster if they just stepped back and let Remus go for it.

Sirius flicked his long hair of his eyes to get at the tray of paint again. The dining room already looked better- not that Sirius would ever admit to it, considering the fuss he made over the color. He thought white was a bit boring, but Hermione seemed to have her heart set on it.

A sharp rap at the window garnered Sirius' attention, causing a small pool of paint to form under his stationary roller on the drop-cloth.

Sitting on the sill was a nondescript dirty-gray owl that looked impatient. This happened a lot when owls came to the house, seeing as there were dozens of rooms for the poor birds to check in search of their recipient. Sirius opened the window and took the letter from the bird. It took off immediately, obviously not interested in a response.

In scribbled, runny letters the word _Hermione_ was barely legible.

"Hermione?" Sirius called across the room.

It seemed to take about a second and a half for Hermione to register that Sirius was holding a letter, for her to leap across the room, snatch the letter out of his hand, and rip out the single sheet of paper it contained. In reality, it was probably more like three seconds.

Sirius watched Hermione's eyes flit over the page once, then twice. She turned the paper over, as if expecting there to be more and her heartbreak was obvious when there wasn't.

Remus made no effort to hide the fact that he was reading over her shoulder and pulled Hermione into a one-armed hug as her shoulders slumped. He placed a peck on her temple and gave her another reassuring squeeze.

Sirius held out his hand in a silent request to read the letter, and Hermione obliged.

.

_Dear Hermione,_

_Not dead, yet._

_Love,_

_Ron_

_.  
_

"Tactless git." Sirius stated, bringing a wry smile to Hermione's face.

"You're one to talk." She murmured.

With one smooth movement Remus dipped a finger into the paint tray, brought it up, and flicked a line of paint onto Sirius' visage.

"Tag." Remus smiled.

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The morning sun assaulted Hermione's senses. She was just a little too warm, and behind her eyelids lay an uncomfortable red glow.

She had no intention of waking up yet and so rolled over and put her blanket over her face. Or rather, she tried to. She couldn't seem to roll over on the thin cushion she currently occupied, and instead of a blanket there seemed to be a heavy arm that lay low on her waist.

Hermione's eyes snapped open with one-night-stand panic. She was reassured by the comforting setting that the library provided and the fact that she was fully clothed. Her eyes found the familiar form of Remus who lay stretched out on the floor beside her. It wasn't hard to admire the golden and silver locks of his hair in the morning light. He looked so innocent, angelic even, when he slept.

Hermione slowly slid a paint-splattered hand over her hips, trying to locate her wand pocket in her jeans. With a sure hand, she inched the stick out and flicked it at the curtains, nonverbally imploring them to close. They did, effectively blocking out the morning sunlight. Satisfied, Hermione relaxed back into the couch. Her movement caused the arm she recognized as Sirius' to tighten around her middle and pull her back against his chest.

Her eyes drooped to close, but she could feel his slightly scratchy cheek settle on her shoulder and neck.

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_A/N: Review if you like the color Red!_


	8. Chapter 8

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It was the way he touched her shoulders that did her in in the end.

Hermione was adding hawthorn to his potion, when he came up behind her and placed his leathery sausage fingers onto her shoulders. Her skin was slick with sweat, the potion had gained new standards for steaming up the work cupboard and heating up the apothecary's backroom. At first, she tried to shrug his heavy hands off of her shoulders, but the tips of his fingers curled around her collarbone to hold her in place.

He didn't say anything, even when Hermione tried to shake him off again. Instead he leaned his head down to rest next to hers as if he were studying the potion instead of her. She knew better. She'd had to deal with the inept gropings of her classmates as she studied in the ministry's program, their excuse being that their hand had ''slipped''.

His breath stank of the Shepard's Pie he'd had for lunch four hours ago, and it seemed to make her skin sting where it roamed her shoulders and cheek. The glass jars that lined the room began to rattle and a bead of sweat ran from Hermione's temple to jaw.

Hermione hunched over the cauldron more, her face getting closer than was particularly necessary. The danger that would've been present normally was absent when the potion was in its dormant state as it was now. She blew on the cauldron trying to encourage the patterned ripple she was looking for. The potions master groaned, and Hermione felt a strange longing for Professor Snape.

When the Potions Master squeezed her shoulder again, something in Hermione's mind clouded- or perhaps it became very clear, but the next thing Hermione knew, the jars on the walls were popping like soap bubbles, raining shards of glass around the room.

The contents of the jars hovered for a moment in the air, some in drops that lay suspended in the air, others retaining their shape despite the lack of glass to hold them. Hermione's hair seemed to crackle with static electricity, keeping up while the rest of her body flooded with adrenaline and magic. The world seemed to thrum around her and Hermione was aware of the tweedy form that had balled itself up in the corner.

Seeing a grown man cower at a bit of broken glass seemed, to Hermione at least, laughable. Not that she was laughing. Instead, she allowed the potions ingredients that were airborne to rain onto the scuffed wood floors and into the wide cauldron. The potion that she'd been developing for weeks turned a satisfying blackish brown at the unexpected additions.

Still humming with the burst of magic, Hermione hopped off of her stool and crunched the glass beneath her feet. Each step she took in exiting the room and the shop was noted with the gritty sound of shoe breaking shard. Diagon Alley had, in Hermione's experience, never looked better.

.

Remus liked the smell of books: they were musty and natural. The combinations of glue and paper, ink and leather, there was nothing he didn't like. He liked to trace the faded letters on the spines of old books. He relished the cracking sound that came with breaking in a new one. He liked reading by the fire, the window, while eating, before bed, and especially when he was in the library curled up comfortably with Hermione.

Some days, when he had nothing to do, Remus would wait in the library. He'd busy himself with this book or that, collecting random information and jotting it down, or perhaps just getting lost in some work of fiction. Anything would do really, as long as he looked absorbed enough to seem as though he belonged there. And so he'd wait, and she would come. She would come and, depending on her mood, curl up close to Remus. Sometimes she was so close he could almost feel her heartbeat pressing through her neck and into his arm. Almost. Sometimes she would be tired though, and that was his favorite because she would fall asleep to the sound of his voice as he read whatever was at hand out loud.

Today though, Remus actually was absorbed in his work for the Department. So much so that he didn't look up when Hermione entered the room. He didn't hear her come in or realize he wasn't alone until he smelled her skin. The scent hit him like a wall: a combination of sugar, sweat, and the chaotic zing of anger and adrenaline. It was definitely her.

This sudden knowledge jerked him out of his paperwork and into the present. Without thinking, he spun in his chair bringing three legs off of the wood floor to snap himself down facing opposite the desk that his work lay on.

And there she was. She was buzzing with energy, that much was apparent. She charged to a bookshelf only to change her mind, turn about, and dance to the liquor cabinet on tiptoe. Once there, she opened the door, looked around, and snapped it shut; unsatisfied with its contents.

Remus knew this mood well, but he'd never observed it on another person. It was fascinating.

She was restless and looking for some outlet to calm herself down, but nothing seemed to be appealing to her- which only built upon her blind energy. Since Remus sat in a corner, he was able to observe her without being noticed. Her hard-soled shoes snapped a rhythm on the floor only to be muffled by one of the many carpets in the room. She was disheveled. She was sweaty. She was angry, and she was perfect.

Remus was so entranced by her mood and movement that it took him a minute to realize he was spying and that Hermione's inhibitions would kick in the moment she realized she wasn't as alone as she'd assumed. With that in mind, he made to sneak out of the room. His movement however, seemed to catch her eye.

"Oh." Hermione let out a small noise, her demeanor shifting exactly as he'd expected. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize-"

"Of course you didn't. It's fine, really." Remus stumbled over his words, trying to sound comforting but knowing that she didn't really want to be comforted. She probably wanted to hit him, truth be told. It'd get rid of a bit of the extra energy she seemed to be battling with.

"I-um-" Hermione broke off with a sigh and a half-step toward Remus.

"Bad day?" Remus stepped forward, motioning her to sit on the couch. She did, only to leap to her feet again, then sit down once more.

"Yes. I'm still so-" She stood again and paced back and forth for a moment. Remus took a seat on the couch, observing her melt-down. "I didn't mean to, but- and now it's not as if I can go back but-" She stopped in front of him and looked at him with a new meaning clouding her eyes. "Do you ever regret something- and not- at the same time?"

Remus swallowed hard. "Yes." He could see her hands shaking with energy.

A part of his brain was screaming at him 'Do it! DO IT NOW!', but Remus stayed absolutely still, afraid of scaring off the evidently skittish woman in front of him. He had another, Sirius-seeming presence in his head that anchored him to the couch.

He heard her swallow to echo his own and looked at her face. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were directed pointedly at the ceiling.

His eyes dropped to her generous hips. His fingers twitched at the impulse to wrap themselves around those hips and pull her to him. To claim every part of her as his whether she liked it or not. But he kept his hands on his knees, in plain sight, lest they stray.

Again, he was so absorbed with his own self control that he was surprised when his nose was suddenly filled with the smell of sugar. He raised his eyes only to find a multifaceted brown pair that were so close he could almost count the spokes that lined the irises.

Heat rolled off of Hermione's body as it arranged itself onto his, her knees perched almost demurely on either side of his; her hands braced against the back of the couch. Her face hovered so close to his that Remus could almost feel her movements through the negative space. Her breathing was rough- as, Remus noted, was his.

She paused, making sure she had his undivided attention, before nudging his lips with hers. The contact was so brief, he wasn't sure it had happened at all until she pressed her mouth to his again- this time with more insistence. It took all of two stunned seconds for Remus' instincts to kick reason to the curb and take over. Before he knew it, it was he that was controlling the kiss. He pressed into her, knowing that this may be the one and only time he got to kiss the girl he'd admired for _so long. _He devoured her lips before parting them and pouring years of want into her her.

.

He was setting her on fire. The touch of his lips was dry and intense, scorching out all thoughts and feelings but him. She had forgotten about his hands until she felt them skim across her thighs and then wrap around her waist, pulling her down so she was pressed fully into his lean body.

No longer needing to support herself with her arms, Hermione gripped his shoulders, desperately needing air but not wanting it in the slightest. As if knowing this, Remus broke contact and wasted no time in trailing dry open-mouthed kisses down her neck and onto her collarbone. There was no place he neglected, leaving her feverish and wanting.

Her hands traveled up his neck and into his hair, pulling his head back enough that she could reach his lips once more, this time it was she that pried his lips apart with almost embarrassing eagerness. It was she that acted on the pent up frustration- on years worth of school-girl crush and inconvenient lust. She ran her fingers through his already messy hair that truly felt as soft as she'd always imagined, praying that he wouldn't come to his senses.

Without considering the consequences (something that seemed to be a theme of hers that day) she took advantage of the position she was in and ground against him. For one terrifying moment, Hermione was sure she'd snapped him out of it. She was reassured when he nipped her lip, reestablished his dominance and explored her mouth all over again.

She was restless and began moving in his lap, grinding and twisting in a rhythm his kisses picked up quickly. His hands moved from her waist to her bottom, stabilizing her movements.

Hermione's veins were pumping what felt like whiskey through her body. Every part of her was warm and ready, but just as she was undoing the top button of Remus' shirt, he stilled.

He jerked away from her and barely glanced at her surprised expression before turning his head to face the open door of the library. Now that her mind was clearing, she heard it too. Laughter. Remus and Hermione locked eyes.

"Sirius." He breathed, pushing her off of him easily and breaking eye contact.

Ice cold guilt doused whatever smoldering embers of the moment were left. _Sirius._

But that wasn't right. She had nothing to feel guilty for. Remus' hurried attempt at normalizing his appearance seemed to indicate otherwise. Taking her cue, Hermione ran her hands through her insane hair and tried to smooth out the obvious wrinkles in her clothes. Knowing it was futile, she got up to flee the room.

Hermione got as far as the door before nearly running into none other than Sirius Black. And a tall blonde woman who seemed to be trying remove her stilettos as she walked.

.

A sharp intake of breath alerted Sirius to Hermione's presence. He knew he shouldn't have, but a part of him smirked at being discovered with a woman. His gaze flicked to his female roommate who was leaning in the door frame of the library. He would've smiled an apology and proceeded to his room to fuck the girl who was decidedly _not _Hermione, had he not noticed her uncharacteristic state of dress.

Her work clothes were wrinkled, her skirt hitched up much higher than normal. Her hair was mussed and her skin was flushed on her cheeks and the bit of chest he could see. Her lips were swollen in a way that almost seemed as if she'd been-

Sirius looked past Hermione and into the library to see none other than his best friend sitting on the couch pretending to read. His cheeks and neck were ablaze and his hair was sticking up in the back in a way that sent a clear message. Sirius had walked in on something.

He couldn't control the look of hurt that consumed his face as he returned his gaze to Hermione. Her eyes filled, but she didn't look away. It was like he was seeing her through a tunnel, everything else disappeared as he watched his friend's lower lip tremble. The first tear fell onto her cheek and ran a swift path down to her chin before staining her blouse. Without looking back, Hermione rushed past Sirius and his date and up the stairs.

It took a moment for Sirius to realize he was being watched intently by two sets of eyes. His voice cracked, but Sirius managed to dismiss the woman at his side before heading to his bedroom upstairs for some much-needed privacy.

.

_A/N: Crazy nervous about this one. Let me know what you're thinking._


	9. Chapter 9

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. 'Tis fanfiction!_

_A/N: If you don't catch it, this starts up where the last chapter left off..._

.

What were they thinking?

Sirius paced his room like a caged animal, running his hands through his hair so violently that he pulled a couple out. What did he care? He had no one to impress. It was just him in his room. The dusty windowsill wasn't judging.

And Remus? What was he doing taking advantage of his roommate- a roommate that was- what, eighteen years younger than him? What business did he have claiming Hermione? She was-

The front door slammed, and drew Sirius' attention. Did Hermione walk out on him? She couldn't have. She wouldn't just leave after that, with no explanation- Would she?

Sirius was suddenly unsure, he felt that the two people he was closest with were suddenly strangers.

He didn't know them like he'd thought he had, because the people he'd _assumed_ they were would never have gone behind his back like that.

Well, Moony always made Remus a mite unpredictable, but Hermione? Sweet Hermione? Book-loving Hermione? The innocent girl he knew and loved?

Oh.

Sirius stopped his pacing, his boots still on the scratched wood floor. He hadn't meant to say that- or, think that. He didn't mean that. Slip of the mind-tongue. That was over, Ages over. They were friends now. She was like a-

No. Not even close to familial feelings were welling up in Sirius. Inappropriate feelings that he had worked so hard to tamp down, and wash out, and keep hidden. They were coming out of his mind, and busying his bloodstream, making his forearms itch. Sirius went to the window and pressed his forehead against the cold glass. He could master this. He had to.

_._

_._

_._

His lungs let out another sigh as he pushed the sheets off of his feverish body. Sirius' eyes stung with the hours he'd been resisting sleep. He hadn't left his room since slamming the door at something like eight o'clock, and his eyes had long since adjusted to the dark. The slanting shafts of moonlight illuminated the room with a haunting glow. Once again, Sirius rolled over and punched his pillow into shape: trying to find a comfortable position.

Not that it mattered. His mind was wide awake and providing endless loops of guilt over his affairs, jealousy towards his friend, disgust for the situation in general, then back to guilt. He was, without a doubt, _love_sick. But when did that happen?

If Sirius were being honest with himself, he couldn't remember _not _being in love with Hermione Granger. Since he was a hormonal teenager, she'd been the girl that no other girl seemed as good as. She was the girl who'd kept him up some nights, his mind replaying a joke or a fight or a smile. Every other woman he'd dated -and there had been a wide variety- had one fatal thing in common. They weren't her.

Sirius squirmed on his mattress again, shoving his pillows onto the floor as he spread himself flat on the bed to stare blankly at the ceiling.

And now she was what? With Remus?

How long had that been going on, right under his nose? Had they been at it like bunnies since she moved in?

Sirius' mind rehashed every shared meal, drink, moment, and reinterpreted every touch to have some sort of sexual subtext.

_Pass the potatoes? _Who did they think they were kidding? _Obviously_ it was code for "Want to shag after dinner?"

And those little meet-ups in the library? Why else would Remus have been so helpful with the renovations?

Of course they were seeing each other behind Sirius' back. Probably laughing at him all the while.

Had they been carrying on this whole time? What if the real reason she'd left him in the first place was because she was in love with his best friend?

Sirius felt his eyes prickle in anticipation of some very un-manly tears. Partly in an effort to fight them off and partly because he was sick of lying in bed and feeling sorry for himself, Sirius pushed himself up off of his bed to walk to the windows. His striped pajama pants and t-shirt were wrinkled with all his thrashing around, his hair was mussed by the same.

Looking down on the quiet garden below his window, Sirius couldn't help but be frustrated that the world around him didn't reflect the nature of his mental state. In that moment, he didn't make a decision. He didn't register himself crossing the room to the door. He didn't notice his bare feet quietly padding along the hallway runner and down a set of stairs. It wasn't until his nose was practically pressed against the wood of Hermione's door that he even realized that he'd left the stagnant air of his bedroom.

.

Now fully conscious of his actions, Sirius raised a hand to softly tap on the door with the prints of his fingers. After a moment of quiet, he dropped his hand to rest on the knob, turning it centimeter by centimeter until the deafening click that signaled the opening of the door. Sirius gently pushed the door open to reveal another moonlit room.

Under a meringue of covers a head of corkscrew curls poked out. She was facing away from him, and suddenly Sirius was desperate to see her face.

As if a phantom, Sirius crept to the opposite side of the bed. Once he had gotten close enough to see her face, he wished he hadn't. Even in sleep, Hermione's distress was obvious. Her brow was furrowed, the tops of her cheeks were red. Her hand clung to the corner of her pillow that was still a little damp with tears.

He knew that they'd had their fair share of squabbles, but he'd never seen her look so hurt. Sirius' heart swelled with shame. If anyone else had caused her pain, Sirius would've seen to it that they got the black eye they deserved. In her sleep, Hermione curled a little tighter into a ball and let out a quiet sniff.

Instinctively, Sirius brushed a soothing hand over her forehead. After that it was as if there was a magnet under Hermione's skin, drawing his fingers along her cheeks and chin, tracing the shell of her ear. Very gently Sirius sat down on Hermione's bed, lowering himself onto his side to face her.

His left hand's thumb was tracing her cheekbone when Hermione spoke.

"Sirius, I know you're there." Hermione's quiet voice was clouded by misery and sleep, but still perfectly understandable. Her heavy lids lifted, revealing eyes that shone with water, her cheeks and nose were rosy with her previous distress. The eyelashes Sirius had admired as a young man were clumped together, and the smooth skin of her face was waterlogged. She waited for his explanation.

"I-" Sirius was hesitant to answer a question he wasn't sure he knew the honest response to. "I wanted to say, I'm sorry."

Hermione blinked slowly, and Sirius admired her unlined chocolate eyes. She was too beautiful.

"I should probably-" Sirius cut Hermione's apology off with an index finger to her lips.

"No. You didn't do anything." Sirius whispered.

"Then why were you upset?"

Sirius sighed with the complexity of the question. The superficial answer was easiest.

"Remus and I have been friends for a long time. He shouldn't have taken advantage of you."

Hermione sighed in annoyance. "Remus didn't take advantage of anything, Sirius. He didn't do anything wrong."

"You don't think that, but he's a grown man, and you're a-" Sirius tried again.

"If you say 'child', Sirius, I will hit you." Hermione spoke calmly, but there was fire in her eyes. "I'm an adult, and I've been making adult decisions of my own for quite a while now. It's not your job to police my relationships."

Sirius propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at Hermione.

"He's too old for you."

Hermione's expression hardened, her voice losing all traces of sleep. "No he isn't. Eighteen years is nothing."

"Eighteen years means he's old enough to be your father."

"While that's technically true, _Sirius, _my father was forty-seven when he and Mum had me. They had thought all that time that they couldn't have children. Then I showed up." Hermione paused and looked at her lightly patterned sheets before reasserting her gaze. "And he's sixty-seven now. That means he's old enough to be _your_ dad." Hermione arched an eyebrow.

"And you never minded having an old man as your father?" Sirius asked. His eyes couldn't meet hers, but his fingers traced her upper arm beneath her duvet.

"He was always 'Dad', and my mother was always 'Mum'. Besides, when I'm one-hundred and twenty-two and- and Remus is one hundred and forty, I don't think either of us is going to care." Hermione was watching the motion of Sirius' arm as he ran the pads of his fingers over and over her milky skin.

"Remus." Sirius echoed.

"Yes. Remus." Hermione's voice was a sigh, "The, um, the reason you came down here. To tell me I should look out? Right?"

"Something like that." Sirius mumbled.

"Something like what?" Hermione asked, curling her body forward so her head tucked underneath Sirius'.

Sirius moved his hand up to her chin, tilting it so that their faces were so close that neither could focus their eyes properly and he could feel Hermione's warm breath on his chin.

Sirius' voice was a whisper, "Love me instead."


	10. Chapter 10

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter._

_._

_Sirius moved his hand up to her chin, tilting it so that their faces were so close that neither could focus their eyes properly and he could feel Hermione's warm breath on his chin._

_Sirius' voice was a whisper, "Love me instead."_

.

It took a moment for Hermione to register any thought at all. It was like she was suspended in water, unable to hear anything except the popping of her ears. Then the world came rushing back in.

Her eyes wouldn't focus on Sirius' face, he was too close.

She knew that the smart thing to do would be to remove his hand from her chin as gently as possible and ask him to leave her room. The smart thing to do would be to find Remus, wherever he was, and remind herself why he was exactly her type.

"Sirius," Hermione swallowed thickly, "You say that like I have a choice in who to love." She looked down at where his hand was, but he caught her attention again.

"Actually, I'm kind of hoping you don't." Sirius muttered, before catching her lips in a kiss for the first time in two decades.

Once, when Hermione was home from Hogwarts on summer break, her hand slipped as she unplugged a radio. For a moment her heart stopped, her body froze, and a zip of tingling electricity ran through her entire body starting at her finger. It was terrifying, but when it was over there was so much adrenaline coursing through her system, Hermione went for a run around the neighborhood just to wind down.

That feeling didn't even hold a candle to kissing Sirius Black.

His lips pressed to hers so sweetly, so intimately, that a blush painted her cheeks. A long-forgotten shiver ran down her spine as Hermione snaked her hands up to wrap around Sirius' neck. His hair was as silky as it was inky, and her fingers slipped through it as easily as water. Hermione's mouth opened, craving air, and Sirius ran his tongue along her lip in a request.

.

Sirius was going to take his time with Hermione. He had spent far too long putting the witch in his arms on a pedistal, but any lingering hopes he'd been harboring that she'd let him down were shattered. She was so much better than he'd remembered. He let his hands drop to her hips and gripped them securely as he leisurely reacquainted himself with her mouth. She smelled salty from crying, but underneath she still tasted like sugar.

Sirius' thumbs played over the strip of skin between Hermione's tank top and pajama bottoms, torturing them both with the promise of more. Hermione hummed against Sirius' lips and gripped his t-shirt in her hands. With a deft move, she pulled his strong body on top of hers. Sirius propped himself up on his elbows to keep from suffocating Hermione, but she wasn't making it easy. Her hands ran down his back as her kisses became more and more insistent, begging for reciprocation.

With his whole body pressed against her, Sirius couldn't help but marvel at how soft and inviting Hermione was. Her skin was like silk and gave way at his touch just enough to make him want to lose himself in her.

.

"Wait." Hermione's voice surprised even her own ears, but there it was.

Sirius stilled is lips on her neck, his eyes flicking up to meet hers. Hermione's first impulse was to say 'never mind, just keep at it.', but her hands were already pushing at one shoulder, encouraging his warm blanket of a body off of her.

"What's wrong?" Sirius' voice sounded thick with confusion and lust. Oh, yes. Sirius Black lusted after the notorious bookworm, Hermione Granger. She had evidence of it- that a part of her wished she could further explore. But another, logical, part of her brain was using her mouth at the moment.

"I just have to think for a minute." She breathed, her chest still rising and falling heavily.

Sirius let out a low chuckle from his side of the bed and let his head settle heavily onto a pillow. Hermione would've been offended if a hand hadn't reached out to stroke her forearm reassuringly. "Wouldn't be you if you didn't, Love." Sirius muttered. She looked over in time to see his eyes close peacefully while his fingers continued to pet the underside of her arm.

Hermione rolled onto her side, and studied the profile of the man next to her.

"Sirius?" She called quietly across the prairie of sheets.

"Hm?" His eyes slid open to meet hers.

"I shouldn't start anything with you." She breathed out.

Sirius raised a skeptical eyebrow in response.

"I shouldn't be with Remus either." Hermione bit her lip.

"You say 'shouldn't'." Sirius was using his Be Reasonable voice with her now. She really hated that. "I'm not sure I understand."

"Sirius, we live together." Hermione huffed. "And I can't just decide to break one of your hearts. I can't date one of you while we make the other one watch. Even if it's just a passing attraction for you two, it's tacky at the very least and cruel at the worst."

Hermione sucked a breath in through her teeth and pressed a cool hand to her feverish forehead.

"So...you're choosing to dump both of us, before either of us has a chance to date you?" Sirius queried, now staring at the ceiling.

"I think it's for the best." Hermione murmured.

Sirius sighed heavily, and the bed shifted as he sat up to leave. Hermione closed her eyes to avoid the visual of him walking out on her.

She felt him lean in to kiss her on the cheek, and was surprised to feel his lips press against her neck.

His breath tickled her ear when he whispered, "You're wrong."

Hermione's eyes snapped open, expecting a furrowed brow, but they met a pair of eyes that were dancing with mischief.

She didn't look away as he covered her in her comforter, crossed the room, and silently closed the door.


	11. Chapter 11

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

_._

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The kitchen was a mess. There were bowls floating around, charmed to be heating, cooling, or mixing, depending on what was in them. The floor was covered with flour, pepper, spilled powdered sugar, and an assortment of leafy greens where the salad had spilled over.

"I don't know how we're going to explain all of this to Hermione." Remus fretted tasting a bit of raspberry topping as it cooked on the stove.

"Hey!" Sirius smacked his hand with a spatula. "Who said she has to see it? She should be coming in the sitting room fireplace in about," He checked his watch. "An hour. That's plenty of time to hide the mess."

"Because cleaning is out of the question." Remus chuckled.

"You said it, not me." Sirius grinned back, poking a steak to check doneness. "How does the dining room look?"

"Very nice, if I do say so myself." Remus shifted to get out of Sirius' way.

"Flowers?" Sirius picked up a bowl of potatoes and began mashing.

"Check."

"Tablecloth? Wine glasses and china?" He added a bit of milk.

"Check, check." Remus put the milk back into the icebox.

Sirius stopped his mashing and looked up at Remus. "_Non_-cursed silverware?"

"Check." Remus clapped his friend on the back, "Don't worry, mate, everything is going to be fine."

"I guess you're right." Sirius shrugged, flicking his wand to make the utensils sort out dinner for a while. He checked for the third time to be sure the white wine was chilling. It was. "I'll have to finish up in here for a few minutes, do you think you'll be able to distract her when she gets in?" Sirius asked.

"Shouldn't be a problem. I'll get some conversation cards ready, you know, in case the conversation lulls or gets awkward or something." Remus trailed off, obviously half considering actually making those cards.

"I think you should be more worried that you're still in your running clothes." Sirius looked Remus up and down. "Not that you're not fetching in this strange sweaty windbreaker material, but maybe you should shower and get dressed."

"Ah." Remus gave himself a once-over before glancing at Sirius' equally strange appearance. "And you look just dashing in this pastry chef-meats-grunge rock look you've got going here."

"Exactly," Said Sirius, smacking his friend with a dishcloth, "So you should get in the shower and get dressed so that we can switch and I can do the same. Now go!" Sirius threw the dishcloth at Remus' retreating figure.

Sirius resumed his kitchen work, trying to ignore the nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach. Tonight would either be a complete success, or a catastrophe.

Not that the past two weeks could be called paradise. Remus and Hermione were edging around each other so politely. It was like a Jane Austin novel come to life, watching them interact. If Sirius heard either of them say 'Excuse me' again, he thought he'd explode. Things between himself and Hermione weren't much better. Every time they'd made eye contact since the night he'd kissed her, Hermione would blush and think of something she had to do that was elsewhere.

It wasn't as if he hadn't felt her looking at him. He had. She thought she was being subtle, but then he'd catch her eye and she'd look away again, a blush creeping up her cheeks.

What the house needed was some good old-fashioned forced interaction. That'd help things along. He and Remus had had a long talk and both decided that the only way to get Hermione to hash things out a bit would be to cook a dinner too elaborate for her to refuse. Once she was sitting down, they'd loosen her tongue with alcohol. Copious amounts of alcohol.

Which reminded Sirius, he needed to let the red breathe. Now where was that bloody corkscrew?

.

.

Remus smoothed the button-down shirt he was wearing down for the fourth time. He cast a critical eye on himself in the mirror again. Was the collared shirt too much? Maybe he should take it off. But then he'd be in jeans and a t-shirt. That wouldn't do either. No, Sirius was probably going to wear a tux and tails at the rate he was going. And with Hermione coming from Hogwarts with McGonagall, she'd be wearing some variant of this sort of thing. So it didn't look like he was trying too hard or anything. Definitely not.

With one more tug at the bottom of his shirt, Remus headed downstairs to relieve Sirius from kitchen duty.

.

Sirius was still at the stove where Remus had left him, but instead of a dozen things happening at once, Sirius was casting a few warming charms on a series of covered dishes.

"It's done?" Remus asked, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah," Sirius smirked, "Took you so long to get pretty that basically everything is done." Sirius finished the last charm and stood back from his handiwork.

"Brilliant." Remus grimaced, pouring himself a large glass of red wine. "I'm rubbish with anything but coffee and tea anyway."

"Take it easy. She should be getting here before too long, so I'm going to clean up." Sirius took the half glass from Remus and downed it. "Go wait in the sitting room, in case she gets here early?"

"Sure." Remus followed Sirius out of the kitchen, heading to the sitting room to wait. He walked into the room that still smelled like paint. Hermione really worked wonders on this place, thought Remus, sitting down on the couch facing the fireplace.

The once-dour room now had a comfortable forest-feeling air about it. It seemed that Hermione had been experimenting with different shades of green for the walls and most of the furniture in the room. Remus suspected she'd worked hard to make a green room that didn't scream Slytherin to the occupants of the house; instead it was kind of like sitting in a glade in the forest.

At first Remus didn't know what to do with his hands. He placed them on his knees, but quickly removed them to cross his arms. Then he thought how it would look if Hermione flooed in to see him waiting for her with crossed arms. Why were his palms so sweaty? Remus rubbed his hands on the couch cushions to dry them. Finally settling on picking at the skin beside his nails, Remus waited for Hermione to arrive.

Not too long after, Sirius came in to sit with him. Remus sniffed.

"Are you wearing cologne?"

"Shut up."

Remus chuckled, and after a minute, so did Sirius.

"I remember us waiting for Granger like this once before." Sirius looked at Remus, recalling two schoolboys joking around in the Great Hall at Hogwarts, waiting to embarrass their date.

.

.

.

Hermione flooed into Grimmauld Place to discover her two roommates sitting on the couch, involved in a heated thumb-fight. Remus was winning, but Sirius was faster than he looked. Neither man seemed to notice her presence until she started laughing at them.

Both Sirius and Remus whipped around to Hermione, battle forgotten instantly. Remus popped up off the couch, quickly followed by Sirius.

Remus cleared his throat. "Hermione, hi. Good day at work?" He reached out to take her satchel filled with transfiguration supplies off her shoulder, setting it down on an armchair.

"It was fine." Hermione took in the men who seemed to have been waiting for her. Remus was in a grey buttoned shirt and jeans, and Sirius in his uniform black jeans and boots, but also wearing a dress shirt and vest. "Is something going on?" She asked, removing her work robes and draping them on the same chair on which her bag rested.

"Do we need an excuse to meet our favorite witch when she gets home?" Sirius asked smoothly.

"I suppose not." Something was going on, Hermione just wasn't sure what.

"Hungry?" Remus asked.

"A bit. I was just-" Hermione was interrupted by Sirius.

"Good. We made dinner."

"Well, Sirius made dinner." Remus corrected bashfully.

"Oh- ah, thank you." Hermione reluctantly met Sirius' eyes. He was studying her features with an intensity he'd adopted lately: like he was trying to x-ray her. She tentatively began walking towards the kitchen, Sirius and Remus in tow, but as she passed the dining room, Remus gave her a nudge toward the dining room door.

She pressed it inward, and gasped. The room glowed by the candlelight of several tapers on the table. There was a creamy tablecloth covering the expansive tabletop. China and silverware winked at Hermione in the candlelight, drawing attention to the three beautiful place settings.

"Is all this for me?" Hermione whispered.

Sirius replied with a quiet "Mhm" as he guided her into the room. Remus pulled out the chair at the head of the table for her to sit. Hermione obliged, slightly dazed by the effort they'd put into the evening meal. There were even irises on the table, for godsake.

Remus and Sirius took their seats on either side of Hermione as Sirius flicked his wand, summoning a parade of dancing plates into the room as well as a couple of bottles of wine. Hermione was surprised; she had never actually had food presented to her with a silver dome covering it before. The dishes settled in front of the three and uncovered themselves to reveal a full steak dinner with all of Hermione's favorites: mashed potatoes, peas and carrots, and a fluffy white roll.

"Oh, Sirius, it's beautiful." Hermione sighed.

"It tastes good too." Sirius pointedly lifted a forkful of potatoes to his mouth, encouraging Hermione to do the same.

He was right, Hermione thought after the first bite. Whatever Sirius' other accomplishments or flaws, he was a kitchen god. That was for sure.

Remus filled up Hermione's glass with white wine, and the two others with red, knowing Hermione's preference. She raised her eyebrows in thanks.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Hermione raised her wineglass to drink and asked the obvious.

"So, what's the special occasion?" She took another sip.

Sirius and Remus exchanged a look before Sirius answered. "We're seducing you."

Hermione choked and nearly spit out her drink. Spluttering, she asked "Are you serious?"

Remus smiled, putting down his knife and fork. "Yes, Sirius and I had a long talk about what you said-"

"-the implications, the difficult situation, social expectations, et cetera-" Sirius interjected.

"And came to the conclusion that if we both want to be with you,"

"And you want to be with both of us,"

"Then there was no real reason we shouldn't all be-er- Together." Remus finished, locking eyes with one very red-faced Hermione.

She took another gulp of wine. "Just to clarify. You two want" She gestured to the group. "the three of us to be a, um, a couple?"

"Basically." Sirius was grinning. "We understand that it could be complicated, but frankly Moony and I have been long-term hetero-life partners for quite some time. We think we could make this work."

"But-" Hermione didn't know why she was fighting this. It wasn't as if she hadn't thought about this exact scenario. Well, maybe not quite this formal a proposal, but still. She looked to Remus again.

"Hermione," Remus reached out to stroke her hand, "Has it ever occurred to you that you can have your cake and eat it too?"

.

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_A/N: Gosh, it has been forever. I would REALLY appreciate your feedback on this one. Please&Thankyou._


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